


An Outlier

by Wheviter



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: "everything I touch turns to shit", A Little Canon Divergence, Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Feeling Comfortable, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other, Protective!Elena, Self Pity, Some Fluff, hurt!Nate, protective!Sam, protective!sully, sam it a good brother, some apple fritters, some character study
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25559401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheviter/pseuds/Wheviter
Summary: Nate never knew why, but the people around him would go to the end of the world for him.Or, Nate's most important family thoughts until the point of which Nate (may or may not have) thought he was going to die (but with a lot of regrets).
Relationships: Nathan Drake & Samuel Drake, Nathan Drake & Victor Sullivan, Nathan Drake/Elena Fisher, Samuel Drake & Victor Sullivan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	An Outlier

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how to really describe this story  
> all I know is that Nate is the focal point of everything, and I want to know how he feels about that

Nathan had always been a bit too smart for his own good. 

While it took a few years for his personality to really shine through his shyness and uneasiness, to peek through the thick walls he had built up, he thought it always felt nice whenever he could just act like himself around other people. Maybe that’s why he hated the orphanage so much, partly because he didn’t have Sam there to be a near and close comfort, but also because no one there would understand what he was going through. What he had been through, and no one cared. They didn’t care about his personality, and the nuns didn’t care why he got into fights. They didn’t care about the other person’s part of the story, and Nate hated when he was ignored. 

He almost hated it as much as his older brother’s concerned gaze whenever he saw bruises on Nate’s face, a fat lip, black eyes, the whole shabang. It wasn’t like Nate cared about being looked at in a certain way, but the feeling of disappointment lodging its way into his stomach whenever he saw Sam’s guilty gaze always gnawed at him. Sam didn’t need to be concerned about Nate, Nate needed to be concerned about Nate. He wanted to be as strong of a brother to Sam as Sam was to him. He didn’t think he was worth any of the effort, especially since Sam got nothing in return by visiting Nate at the orphanage, or saving up money, taking these jobs. 

Sam didn’t get anything out of Nate’s presence, he was sure of it. If you’re with someone you expect good deeds in turn, and it wasn’t like Nate could just accept that maybe Sam loved him and loved his company and personality. It wasn’t that easy, it couldn’t be, Nate thought, but it didn’t stop him from feeling his chest warm up whenever Sam smiled upon seeing him on the roof of Saint Francis- especially when Nate hadn’t said anything upon arriving to him. But there was only so much the boy could do for Sam, and it didn’t take a lot for Nate to fall into a state of depression if his older brother hadn’t come to visit him in a few days. The longest had been a week, maybe two, and when Nate said the boy’s home was miserable he wasn’t lying. 

He didn’t have friends there, no one talked to him. He hated leaving his room, despised it, and whenever he did to either eat or use the restroom, shower, he felt a sense of loneliness wash over him. It was as if he was walking against a crowd of people, unable to find Sam - the only other person walking in the same direction as him. Nate never cried, he liked to brag about that, but sometimes when the loneliness became too suffocating he'd choke back a few sobs before falling asleep, exhausted. 

He had cried once, for a while, and it happened to be on the same night Sam came to visit. Nate hadn’t a real reason to lie to his brother, lie about what was bothering him or lie about why he had been crying, especially since Sam jumped on him about his reddened puffy eyes faster than he had ever jumped on him about any cut or bruise. Sam hated seeing him cry, hated seeing his baby brother in any form of distress. He also hated seeing Nate be secretive, especially because the boy couldn’t fib to save his own life. But Nate hated being open about it, he had developed a distaste for seeing guilt in Sam’s eyes, remorse, frustration. And Nate was frustrated, too, frustrated he was trapped in a place he hated. 

It led to ill timed selfish thoughts. Selfish thoughts about wanting to go with Sam, just wanting to be with him and out of the orphanage. He didn’t care about how he worked, he could steal or work odd jobs, something even more mundane like a grocery store where he could get enough money to convince Sam that he _was_ indeed ready to get the hell out of that town. That with the both of them pitching in they would make it, they just needed to stick together. 

Those selfish thoughts always made him cry much harder on the tough nights. The feeling of betrayal clogged his airways, hiccuping, and while he knew Sam was doing what he was doing for the two of them it still felt incredibly _wrong_. It felt like Sam had left him there, that he didn’t care about how much Nate had to suffer everyday with the wandering eyes and painful taunts that followed him through the crowded halls. It made Nate feel like he was on the streets alone, fending for himself, that Sam was too far away to even be considered a comfort, a backbone, a reassurance. It made Nate even sicker when he dared consider that he needed even more than Sam, he needed an adult. 

And then Nate got a job. He couldn’t handle the constant loneliness and uselessness crawling up his back. He, of course, didn’t exactly work legally, but he was paid well at a small convenience store and was a very quick learner. Carrying things even helped him build up a little bit of muscle that Sam had no trouble pointing out. And Nate was proud, he basked in Sam’s prideful smile whenever he stared down at the younger Morgan. He didn’t know why Sam would be so happy about it, it’s not like Nate’s presence was that meaningful or important, even his accomplishments, but any sad thoughts dissipated by how nice it felt to have been able to _do_ something for a change. 

It, however, was short lived. At least a month into his work, the nuns had had about enough of finding Nate’s bed empty at night, longer maybe- possibly leading into the early mornings, and forbade him from leaving to work again. Nate assumed it might have to do with the large bags that had now begun to form under his eyes, and while Sam’s concerned gaze still bore into him, it didn’t change the happiness Nate felt when he counted off his $200. $10 an hour was quite generous for a small kid, even for pay at a convenience store, but Nate worked incredibly hard. He earned his keep.

Nate was beyond grateful he had decided to keep his money on him the day he beat the shit out of Edward. Or, well, they both beat the shit out of each other. Having his cash tucked comfortably and safely into his good jean pockets kept everything a lot more together than it would if he still had it hidden in one of his many books- but with Edward having walked over and stepped on his personal space, even more, Nate wasn’t taking any chances.

It was the best call he could have ever made, though, especially when Sam and him left to find their mother’s things and ended up on the streets, together now. For good. 

Of course, the mental image of Evelyn dying in front of him was burned into his mind, and the first night Nate spent at the small apartment Sam had been living in he curled next to his older brother on the bed and shook. Sam was asleep, thankfully, and he quietly cried into the older boy’s back as the “what ifs” went through his head. Had the two of them caused the heart attack? Was it Nate’s fault she died?

He hated to admit it but when he woke up the next morning, head buried in Sam’s chest after the older kid turned around and hugged him (probably having also seen the dried streaks of tears on Nate’s face, as well as the puffy eyes), it was the most comfortable he had felt in a long time. He felt safe. He felt content. 

A few days after secretly saving up more money, especially the ‘allowance’ Sam insisted Nate have, he decided to come clean to Sam about the job he had worked at and how he wanted to pitch in. He desperately needed to, or else the restlessness and staying still would kill him. Best described, he was a shark who needed to keep moving or else he’d die, and while it’s a dramatic analogy, Nate thought it fit him surprisingly well. 

  
  


“You’d been working, little brother?” Sam had asked, looking up from their shabby, circular and wooden dining room table. It was a tad bit worn down, with wood chipping off - thankfully not enough to make Nate or Sam worry about getting splinters - but it did look old. Sam had hesitantly counted the money Nate had handed him, counting all of it and subconsciously running his finger over the folds, and when Nate nodded, he could see his older brother’s facial expression turn into a forced happy face. 

  
  


“I wanted to show you I could pull my own, and I can.” Nate said quickly. He hadn’t sat in the chair next to Sam - there were only two, because they only needed two - and instead stood next to him. “And it’s not fair for you to keep me here while you work and I sit around all day doing jack shit but wishing I was with you or wish I was at the very least helping you.” He sighed softly, and it became more apparent that the forced happy face covered up Sam’s quivering lip and furrowing brows. “Oh- oh no, Sam-” Nate said quickly as he had enveloped his older brother into a hug. 

  
  


There were small times like these, Nate was glad he could be there whenever his brother showed any signs of weakness, any sign that things were too hard. It helped humble Nate, that any sad thoughts he may have about use, or worth, or how everything he touches turns to shit, his older brother is always going through something worse. He’s working harder than Nate had ever seen anyone work, except for maybe Father Duffy, and Nate couldn’t imagine how much the stress must crush him. He couldn’t imagine the good or bad days because of how often they just blended together. 

  
  


And after that, they sat on the couch, Nate slumped into Sam’s side, his older brother’s arm draped over his shoulder, and Sam talked about how his day or week had been, and Nate listened. He would give some snide comments about the people in Sam’s stories, which earned him a laugh from his brother, and he chimed in at some point to give his two cents.

  
  


It wasn’t smooth or sturdy advice, Nate stumbled over his words, and halfway through he realized that Sam wasn’t stupid enough to not already be doing this. But, to his relief, Sam squeezed Nate’s shoulder gratefully, anyway. After that, they both took turns drawing on four full pages of Nate’s little notebook and laughing happily. 

  
  


Once again, the doubts of his presence being good enough to make Sam happy had crawled through the back of his brain. It was easily smothered by how happy Nate was while the two boys had fun with their doodling, Nate’s good cartoonish style and Sam’s horrendous attempts to redraw whatever Nate drew, and then Nate trying to draw something Sam drew in return. Nate didn’t understand if Sam feigned the laughs or happiness he displayed, but at that moment he didn’t care. He couldn’t be bothered. They were both happy. 

  
  
  


They were going to be leaving for Colombia soon. They were going to get Drake’s ring from a museum there, and Nate was anxious. He was anxious about money, primarily. Sam had been working his ass off, constantly on the 9 to 5 hours that he had once personally claimed to be stupid and a waste of time. 

So, Nate was quite obviously going to help out. Even when Sam said he had it covered, it didn’t stop Nate from going to another local convenience store and working. In hindsight, he probably should have told Sam of his job before Nate got home late one night. 

It was odd, walking back into the apartment via the window (he didn’t have a key) and made eye contact with Sam. The older Drake was sitting at the old wooden table, cigarette in one hand and some kind of beer in the other, and it was quite obvious Sam was absolutely _not_ okay with the unannounced absence of his baby brother. Getting home and seeing your kid brother is gone without saying anything usually led to thinking the worst, and it was no surprise when Sam rushed over to Nate, pulled him through the window all the way, and gave him a crushing bear hug that he had thought of a lot of different scenarios. 

“Where the hell were you??” Sam scolded after a second, pulling away to look at Nate, hands on the younger’s shoulders and looking over him like some mom checking her child for scrapes and bruises after they fell off the swingset. Sam didn’t handle crushing stress well, and it was obvious that once he got home to an empty apartment, lacking any vibrant Nate to keep the place warm, he shut down - and turned to his best reliever, the cigarettes. It made Nate’s nose scrunch up a bit from how strong Sam’s breath smelled of the smoke, even if he was supposed to be used to it by now. “Why did you leave??”  
  
“I was out, I’m sorry, I should have said something before leaving - are you okay?” Nate frowned. He already knew the answer but he always jumped at opportunities to check in on Sam without randomly asking his older brother the uncomfortable question during something like dinner.

“I- you just worried the hell outta me, s’all.” Sam smiled softly at him, but there was a strain in his voice as he tried to forcefully calm himself down, so Nate did his best comforting move and closed the distance between them again, giving Sam another hug. God knows his older brother needed it. 

It was a day or two ago when he realized he held an unmistakable power that even he didn’t understand. The power to relieve Sam of any kind of funk he may have found himself, the ability to put a smile on Sam’s face when the older saw him - even when he didn’t say anything, and the ability to comfort him by just being near him. And so, he started to smile more. Smiling more led to Sam smiling more, it reassured him that Nate was happy, that he was doing okay. Nate, of course, was indeed very happy, but he just had never smiled that often unless it was for small things. 

At the orphanage he would sometimes be mocked by the other boys if he smiled, and while it sounded stupid, there were the lingering questions of “What the fuck do you have to be happy about?” and it reminded Nate that.. There really wasn’t anything. But the thoughts of hanging out with Sam at night put a smile on his face that wouldn’t easily be swept away. He’d smile learning history in school and hearing Sam’s stories he had from work, and he’d smile thinking about how lucky he was to have a brother who cared so much about him (even if Nate hadn’t the slightest clue as to why). 

So when the smiles became more frequent and Nate’s smothered personality and smart ass attitude poked through his angry and heavily strong, walled exterior, Sam grew more and more confidence. Nate wasn’t dumb, he knew what he was doing. 

After a few days of working, once again without mentioning it to Sam (he did mention he might be absent sometimes from the house when Sam gets home), it was the first time he was faced with a danger that wasn’t another boy within his age range. He had been walking home, he got his money, his paycheck, and was pulled into an alley to be mugged. 

He didn’t know what to do at the time but he sure as hell knew he wasn’t gonna let some asshole on the streets take _his_ money that he earned for _him and Sam_. There was just no way he was going to do that. So it came to no surprise when he got the shit kicked out of him after pulling a fast magic trick on the guy - who was obviously not amused when he saw Nate’s money vanish from one of his hands and was nowhere to be seen. 

It wasn’t like Nate was totally helpless, though, he did stab the guy in self defence with a knife he happened to have with him just in case a situation like this ever occurred, but it didn’t stop the older guy from busting Nate’s lip, giving him a black eye, and littering his arms with bruises. Nate was even sure the guy purposely tried to step on his ankle to maybe break it or something, but only ended up kicking Nate’s shin, which resulted in the formation of an ugly dark bruise. 

Sam sure as hell wasn’t happy about it. 

“What.. What happened to you?” Nate heard the quiet murmur of an exhausted Sam (he must have stayed up late, despite being tired, to wait for his brother to get home). “Nathan.. What-” and suddenly, in a second, Sam was _fully_ awake and by his side. 

“Just got jumped, it’s not biggie, though, you should see the other guy.” Nate tried to joke, laugh it off. While Sam also did this a lot of the time, Nate’s jokes were a lot more pure, more sweet than the sarcastic and joking nature of Sam. But, however, the reassurance wasn’t enough to persuade his older brother.

“Nathan! You got jumped?” Sam had yelped before taking Nate’s wrist, dragging him to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. There wasn’t much in the kit that would actually help Nate, but there was an ice pack Sam could freeze. Nate whimpered at the strain on his wrist, the bruise had already grown nasty there and the pressure from Sam’s hand didn’t help him in the slightest. 

Nate immediately regretted making any noise, though, and Sam pulled his hand away as if Nate’s skin physically burned him. “Sorry, there’s just a bruise there.” Nate said quickly to try and reassure, “I’m okay, though really!” Looking into Sam’s eyes Nate could tell Sam was at least a little bit less sober than he was when he left for work in the morning, and the booze he drank were probably the only things that were able to lull him to the half conscious state when Nate got inside. In any case, it made Sam’s eyes a lot more emotional, less closed off, and Nate could see the fear and concern in them when he had caused his little brother to _whimper_ . Something _he_ did to cause Nate pain. 

Nate hated that. 

  
  


He hated whenever Sam acted as if he had done something wrong to him. As if it was his fault Nate got hurt and as if it was his fault Nate had a bruise on his wrist. 

And so after a moment of reassuring Sam he was, indeed, alright, Nate himself put the ice pack in the freezer and allowed Sam to hold him as if he was a little kid again. Nate slumped up against Sam’s side with his older brother's arms wrapped around him in a protective hug. A kind of reassurance to himself that no one was gonna touch Nate again, and Nate was okay with that. They did eventually fall asleep there, and when they woke up it was as if nothing happened. Of course, Nate did catch Sam sparing guilty and concerned looks at him from time to time when they really got to see how gnarly Nate had been roughed up. 

  
  
  


He turns 14 in Colombia, and then everything in his life changes. 

He was ripped away from Sam during a stupid lift they were trying to pull, and while Nate was able to get away and evade the police, Sam had been arrested and sentenced for 8 months in jail. Nate would have been, too, if it wasn’t for Sam making sure his little brother would be able to get away. Who knows what people would do to a fourteen year old boy in jail - Sam wasn’t taking any chances.

And suddenly, Nate found himself to be completely alone. No Sam for 8 months, no place to stay besides an abandoned shed he had found - but that was just for times where he desperately needed some form of rest - and barely any money to sustain himself. 

The one thing he did have, however, was the eagerness to retrieve Drake’s ring. To fill in the hole Sam had left when he was arrested, Nate busied himself with thinking of how he should steal the ring alone. It would be quick and easy. 

Nate knew he was his brother’s weakness, he knew, and the thought made him sadder than he had ever been at any point in his life. He knew Sam would drop everything to make sure Nate was okay, and it led to too many moments in which Sam got hurt trying to protect Nate. And the younger hated being protected, especially if it meant Sam would be getting what should be Nate’s. But, he always smothered the sad thoughts that came with that fact and did his best to ignore them. If he didn’t, he was sure he’d probably end up being reckless.  
  
  


There was a point in which he felt his logic take a bus to the next town over and all he could do was watch as he was consumed with the desire to snatch the ring on his own, and so that’s what he planned on doing. 

He didn’t think about how he only had one shirt that was his, and technically it was just Sam’s really old shirt. His shoes were damn near falling apart, thankfully they didn’t have any holes in them, but they were one more puddle away from probably evaporating, and he only had one pair of jeans that he was wearing. He didn’t even want to think about how bad he must smell. 

Once he had the ring, though, he could make a plan. That’s what he told himself, that when he walked in there he’d get it, and then he’d be free of his sudden aching desire to have it on him. He’s never gotten a type of urge like this about anything, something that completely threw away his tactical thinking and relied solely on the yearning and hope to get something, or see something, or take something, and it almost made him nervous. He couldn’t tell if the thoughts were more childish or if it was just natural excitement - but he didn’t have Sam there to ask. 

He had grabbed an apple fritter from a local bakery, he didn’t have the money for it but whenever they threw the old pastries out at the end of the day they kept them in bags in the back alley - so why not just take them. After that, he grabbed his bag and his journal, and walked into the Francis Drake museum. 

Nate wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but for some reason a lock on the case holding the ring never crossed his mind, even if it was the first thing that should have. He had kept his head down and tucked himself to the side, however, to see a man jimmy a key into the lock, before leaving. 

Short lived shock ended when he was thrown out of the museum, considering he wasn’t exactly a good face in that area, but he went through the motions. 

He hated when people called him son. It wasn’t because his dad used to call him that, he didn’t, but the word made him feel tied down. Homesick, it made him feel as if he was missing something, when he knew all he needed was Sam. It made him feel like all he had was food and no shelter, and that thought scared him too much to dwell on it, even if he wasn’t sure why.

After getting the key from a well pocketed wallet, and of course giving the wallet back once he had been strangely caught, he removed himself from the situation and retreated back to the shed to squat before he returned to the museum. 

Nate thought it was weird. It was obvious the man was a con artist, or some sort of thief, but Nate didn’t think he would have been found out that easily, or known to have been following the man for some time. He thought he had been careful, and he was, wasn’t he? It made him huff in thought, but the frustration was forgotten and the very real thought of ‘maybe he’ll realize I took the key’ shoved to the side, Nate smiled whenever he touched the key and maneuvered it between his fingers.

  
  


He thinks the slap is what made him jump back into reality. 

“Who do you think you are, boy?” the blonde woman had sneered at him.

  
  
“Kathrine!” 

“You’re nothing but a filthy, cast-off little beggar. You’re not fit to touch these objects.”

Nate was still reeling back from the slap, he stumbled, so all their words seemed like white noise, deaf on his ears as he thought in both shock and annoyance that she _slapped_ him with such a ferocity it made him see stars. But, as Sam had irritatingly said a lot of the time - nowadays at least - he was incredibly stubborn. So, it came as no surprise when he lifted his head back up and stared her down, even if his lip trembled slightly as he did so. 

She gave him a somewhat surprised look before reeling back her arm to back-hand slap him, and he braced himself for what may be an even stronger hit, but to his silent relief the moustached man grabbed her arm. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s just a kid.” 

Exhaling a sigh of relief Nate sprung into action, dipping to the side to make a quick break for it as they both seemed preoccupied. He heard Kathrine yell something along the lines of “stop him” and before Nate knew it he was under a table, up the stairs, and out on the roof. 

It would be an understatement to say he was nervous and scared on the rooftops, despite how well he was trying to keep himself together. He had never been shot at before by anyone other than maybe the police, and it struck a fear in him he had never felt before. If he wasn’t safe with the police, if Sam was in jail and couldn’t help him, and if he _really_ pissed off the wrong people - which he was sure he did - would he be able to handle it alone? 

It’s not like he can just leave Colombia yet, Sam was in jail, and even if Nate could leave where would he go next with no money? There just weren’t many options he could shuffle through. 

The fear heightened into terror once he found himself on his ass on the corner of the roof, holding a gun in front of him, scared fingers trembling as his index finger hovered over the trigger. He had held a gun before, and while he had just accidentally sent a man off the roof - it was more the man’s fault - Nate had never killed anyone before. Of course, he did feel the guilt of Evelyn dying and had to be countlessly reassured by Sam that it “Wasn’t your fault,” but it was still a hard pill for him to swallow. 

Adrenaline pumped through him as the thug looking guy spoke to him, told him to close his eyes, and there was the quiet acceptance of what Nate either needed to do to survive, or what he needed to do to die. And he was scared, he trembled. So, he closed his eyes, not succumbing to the idea of being shot, and preferred the thought of shooting blindly. He couldn’t look someone in the eyes as he killed them, that was too much. 

But he was certain he _hadn’t_ pulled the trigger, and he jumped in surprise when he heard a gunshot echo in the air. The thought of if he had been shot even crossed his mind, but there wasn’t any pain. 

The man in front of him collapsed, and Nate fearfully lifted the gun at the mustached man. He still shook, trembled, and he was doing his best to keep a straight face despite how much his features contorted in the expression of someone trying not to cry. And in a way, that’s exactly what he was trying not to do. But he didn’t shoot the man as he came closer, how could he when the guy had saved his life during his little chase many different times, and even allowed himself to be picked up gently to his feet and have the gun be taken from his hands. 

“You’re okay, kid.” And Nate was okay. 

  
  
  


He had rambled a bit at the bar, talking about Drake, as if he pushed a rock down a hill and allowed it to keep rolling. While Sam was a good listener, he was also somewhat impatient to Nate’s enthusiasm about the small details in history, but this man - Sully - listened in interest. Whether that interest was based off of the fortune Nate had mentioned, or just seeing the kid - who had been shaking out of his shoes terrified earlier at the thought of killing a man even when a gun was pointed at him - smile as he talked about something that seemed to genuinely make him happy. 

Maybe it was a ploy to get Nate to overshare, or to put him in a false sense of security, but while Sam was a really bad judge of character, Nate liked to think he was at least somewhat better. And after their introductions, their partnership agreement, Sully led Nate back to the older man’s surprisingly large hotel room (practically an apartment), primarily after Nate let it slip that all he had at the moment was a shed to sleep in. 

There was a moment where Nate could see Sully’s eyes flash with either amusement or astonishment at the fact that Nate had been hauling ass on his own without anything he could rely on - and Nate made sure he didn’t mention Sam (that or he forgot to, it had been a hectic couple of hours). So Nate retrieved what stuff he had left in the shed that belonged to him and Sam, what money, and followed eagerly.

“Shower’s all yours, kid, and I don’t see any other clothes with you.” Sully arched a brow as he watched Nate set all his things down on the small, square kitchen table. 

“I can just put the shirt I’m wearing back on.” Nate dismissed as he shifted on his feet, keeping his valuables tucked away in a duffel bag that belonged to Sam. 

“No, no, that’s disgusting - tell ya what, you can take one of my shirts to wear until we can clean your get-up.” He referred to the tattered clothes on Nate with a hand gesture, “I have some sweatpants in the dresser as well- it’ll all be big on you but it’s better than putting dirty clothes on after taking a shower.” Sully snickered and Nate’s face flushed in subtle embarrassment, considering the older man said it in a sarcastic way that Nate half expected another comment afterwards saying “it’s almost as if that would defeat the purpose of showering in the first place” but Nate didn’t linger long. 

He scoffed and gave a thumbs up before walking down the small hall and into the open bedroom. He grabbed a random shirt he didn’t deem ugly - Sully had an abundance of them, all tropical looking with flowers as if he was some grandpa on vacation in Hawaii, and all of them were button ups - as well as the single pair of sweatpants Sully had mentioned. 

He shut and locked the door behind him and got undressed, tossing his dirty clothes to the side, and a brief look in the mirror made him grimace. He hadn’t looked at himself in a bit, and if someone had told him that he was so caked with dirt that it looked like he had freckles he sure as hell wouldn’t believe them. 

Nate had also forgotten the absolute _bliss_ that came with a shower. He hopped in while there was still cold water on the floor which made him shiver, but his shoulders immediately slumped as he was blanketed in the warm, comforting water. He stood there for a few minutes, just kind of basking in how great it felt on his aching muscles and dirty skin, not noticing his now tired and heavy eyelids - that had slumped greatly due to the sheer comfort, before finally scrubbing down and getting himself clean. He almost didn’t even wanna get out. 

He did, though, and got dressed quickly in the clothes he had borrowed. He slouched over a bit, resting his forehead on his arms on the bathroom counter as he let out at least 3 violent yawns before forcing himself to open the door and leave. He walked back into the main kind of room to see Sully sitting on the couch - was this even a hotel room? - smoking another cigar. 

Nate’s nose scrunched up a bit, Sam smoked cigarettes - something he hated but begrudgingly got used to - but the smell of the cigar almost seemed worse. 

“Hey.” Nate piped up after standing there awkwardly for a few seconds, and he winced at how tired his voice sounded, and it forced him to acknowledge the exhaustion he held. “I don’t.. I don’t.. I’m tired.” while what he wanted to say was ‘I don’t know where I should sleep’ he opted for something more simple, even if his stammering made him sound childish. 

“You can take the bed, kid, God knows you need it.” Sully looked over, cigar half sticking out of his mouth. Nate frowned, though. 

“No, I can’t do that. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“I wasn’t askin’, the bed will feel much nicer, anyway. Considering you’ve been sleeping on a dirty floor for however long.” Sully cut him off before he could hear any more of that ‘I don’t want to impose’ bullshit, and Nate was grateful, considering a glance he took at the bed earlier made him feel as if he would be wrong _not_ to sleep in it. 

Exhaustion taking over, Nate had retreated to the bedroom and curled up on the bed, melting into the sheets and the blanket, face buried in the pillow that had the almost reassuring and comforting smell of whatever cologne Sully used, before he quickly fell asleep. This was the first time Nate actually felt safe since the night before Sam was jailed and they were together. It felt great. 

  
  
  


A few odd jobs ensued and Sully had taught him the ins and outs of most guns, how to hold them and reload, and more often or not they found themselves in a shooting range. Nate was.. Surprisingly a good shot, and Sully had quietly apologized beforehand for whoever is unlucky enough to stare down Nate’s barrel. Although Nate hadn’t killed anyone yet, and Sully wasn’t sure he even wanted Nate to kill anyone for a long time - he was just a kid- Nate’s aim still improved day by day, and before Nate knew it the 8 months had passed. 

He had made a precise plan on how he could bring up his blood to Sully, but once he had opened his mouth in the kitchen the plan had fumbled off his lips in a whisper and he found himself saying something different and much louder. “Lets go to jail.” 

“What?” He heard Sully’s incredulous voice pipe up from where he was on the couch, and Nate could almost feel Sully’s confused gaze in the back of his head, so like any awkward moment he had ever been caught in, Nate’s face flushed red. “The hell you wanna go to jail for?” 

“Well- well not for _me_ -” he paused, letting out a quiet breath and turned around, leaning back on the counter. “My.. my brother. He’s getting out.. And I want to go pick him up. If.. that’s okay, can we go get him?” 

Sully’s expression, in turn, was completely unreadable and Nate felt a sickening thought pop into his head on how he _must_ have crossed some sort of line. He didn’t want to abuse Sully’s kindness considering how well he was being treated now, and while he only ever asked for apple fritters on good occasions, he had never asked for anything big before now. But it wasn’t his money, it wasn’t his rules, and Nate hated the thought of walking a thin line between his and Sully’s needs.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry I asked-”

“No, no, hold on a second, kid, do you plan on running off with him after getting out?” 

“What? No-” Nate said a little too snarkily and quickly backtracked, “I was.. I was wondering if he could.. Stay with us, where we go next..” He murmured a lot more passively, and he was quietly thankful Sully actually heard it. 

“Ah.” Sully nodded, staring forward, thinking, “What’s his name?”

“Sam..” Nate crossed his arms quietly. He hadn’t said his name since his older brother was arrested, and saying it made him involuntarily smile and his chest warm up at the idea of seeing him again. Sully must’ve seen something Nate didn’t, because once the kid smiled Sully smiled softly, too, and nodded slowly. 

“Alright, when do we need to get there?” Sully leaned back on the couch, sipping his beer, Nate beaming behind him. 

He was half shocked and undoubtedly surprised at how easy it was to get Sully to say yes, and it made him even more grateful for the man who is basically taking the time to keep Nate’s own life in line and now is allowing Nate to bring in his older, more angry, brother. _But Sully doesn’t know how Sam acts_ , he thought immediately after and his smile wavered. 

So much had changed in such a small amount of time, and Nate knew how odd it was that a fourteen year old boy was now living with a man with a moustache who isn’t blood related and was unknown about before their introductions at the bar. He knew Sam would have some sort of fit about it, but at the moment all Nate could care about was getting him out and getting him home. 

_Home._

“Ah.. erm.. Tomorrow?” Nate flashed an apologetic smile as he watched Sully choke on the beer he had been sipping on. 

  
  


“What’s he like?” Sully had asked as they drove. 

“Huh?”

“Your brother, Sam, what’s he like?” 

And then Nate was faced with the ultimate task of trying to describe his brother in a way that was more appealing to someone who hasn’t met him. If he thought of how Sam treated other people - people who he either distrusted or people who got too close to Nate - there weren’t any appealing descriptors Nate could use. Blunt, brash, asshole? Those weren’t gonna slide. 

“Well.. he’s good to me.” Nate shrugged lamely. There wasn’t anything else he could really use to his advantage, “He’s funny, and he cares about me.” He added on, even if it wasn’t much. Sully just grunted in acknowledgment, and Nate knew he was thinking hard about something. 

It turned out even worse than expected when he had to sit in the car, stomach aching with anxiety and nervousness due to the wait, while Sully went and grabbed his brother. Nate couldn’t get near the jail if he wanted to stay out of it, as said he wasn’t exactly a good face here, which left it all to Sully to get his off-the-leash brother to the car. He just wished Sam didn’t try to pull any shit before reaching the car Nate was in.

All wishes went unheard as Sullivan walked up towards the car, holding a tissue to his bloodied nose and a deadpan expression on his face, with Samual in front of him with frantically searching eyes. “Crap..” Nate had muttered, but seeing Sam’s face brought such a happiness to him that Nate practically flew out of the car and into his brother’s arms before anyone knew what was even happening. 

Sam had gotten taller, his hair a bit longer, and he looked a bit more mature - albeit a bit roughed up with some patches on his face. His hands were both gnarly from fights he had been in, but only one of them had freshly dried blood visible due to an earlier punch to Sully’s nose. He smelled awful up close, but it was a comforting smell (stench) nonetheless. 

“Sam!”

“Nathan! Nathan, did he hurt you at all? What are you doin’ with this old guy?” Sam had pulled away from the hug faster than Nate would have liked and instead opted for checking the younger boy’s face for anything out of place before looking him up and down. 

“I’m not that old.” Sully scoffed from the side but Sam ignored him. 

“Sam I’m fine.” Nate chuckled softly at his brother’s concern, earning him a playful scowl in return, before Sam pulled Nate back into him. He rested his hand on the back of Nate’s neck, gently rubbing his index finger and thumb against the back ends of his jaw in a comforting manner he always did, and kept Nate’s head against his shoulder as Sam eyed Sully suspiciously. 

“Yeah like hell, who the hell is this guy even?” Sully had obviously introduced himself when he first picked up Sam, but it was also obvious that Sam didn’t care much for what he had to say and only gave a shit about Nate’s word. “Why are you with him?” he scowled, keeping Nate in a protective hold, but shifted a bit so that Sam was more between him and Sully. 

“He’s Sully.” Nate said stupidly, how could he come up with anything better to say if he was too busy melting at the comforting embrace of his brother he hadn’t seen or felt in 8 months? “He’s been helping me out- we’re partners-”

“Partners??” Sam yelped, and if looks could kill, “What the hell have you been doing to him??”

“I haven’t been doing anything, let the kid talk.” 

“Sam, he saved my life.” Nate sighed. “I would have been shot and left on the street if it wasn’t for him. And he’s been giving me food, a place to stay, he taught me how to hold a gun-” 

“I taught you how to hold a gun!” Sam’s voice got at least an octave higher, and Nate knew Sam hated being backed into a corner like this. 

“Lemme rephrase, he taught me how to hold more than a pistol.” Nate rubbed Sam’s back to try and calm down the erratic teen, but Sam’s hold didn’t slack. 

“Okay, so what? What do you want from him, huh?” Sam spat at Sully, “If I found out you have done _anything_ to him or so much as laid a hand on him I swear to God I will-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sully waved a dismissive hand, tossing his tissue to the side as his bloody nose seemed to have subsided. “I got it, kid, and don’t worry he’s fine, better than how you left him.” 

“Left him?? If I had a choice I would have been right next to him, and we wouldn’t still be in cock-lombia-”

“Oh! Sam! Let go, that reminds me of something.” Nate somehow shimmied out of Sam’s grasp and gripped onto his necklace, pulling out the ring. “I got it.” 

Sam’s eyes widened to saucers as he reached forward, gently running his thumb over the ring. “How did you- I thought we were gonna get this together?” 

“And we were.” Nate nodded, his smile too strong to be wiped off by the subtle disappointment in Sam’s voice, “But, I thought I’d get it for us.” Nate slipped the necklace back on as Sam kept looking at it, before Sam grinned.

“That’s it little brother, how’d you do it?” Having earned a little pat on the shoulder from Sam, Nate immediately delved into his recollection on how that day went, Marlowe, and almost getting shot. Once he was done, they were back in the car and Sam was sitting quietly in the back seat as they drove. Sully recounted a few things on his end, primarily ‘kid was strong’ and ‘smart kid’, as well as a well appreciated ‘you taught him well’. Sam sat behind Nate, who was in the passenger's seat, with his head resting next to Nate’s over the seat as he leaned forward heavily. Nate, in turn, leaned his head back a bit so that they were touching. Nate was almost certain Sully even spared a small smile at the two of them. 

  
  


* * *

Nate was 17, and suddenly he was given a stronger urge than his previous eagerness he had when he was 14. 

Protectiveness hit him like a train and it hit him _strong_. And while he always had something to lose, he couldn’t bear the idea of losing Sam, he now had someone else he couldn’t lose, Sully. 

So, when a job went wrong, and the three of them were running, Nate found himself with a gun in his hand, one that he didn’t walk in with, and he wasn’t taking any chances. They hadn’t had any situations where they were running, they usually were smooth in and out with their stolen goods, but this was different. While none of them had actually planned for this to happen, they didn’t even bring guns, sometimes there were just off days where luck wasn’t on Drake's side. Today was one of them. 

Sully and him had jumped onto the roof that would lead them out, but Sam found himself trapped by bullets, before being pinned down. The older brother fought tooth and nail, to his credit, but there wasn’t much he could do when he was on the ground with a grazed wound on his side and a gun pointed at him by a man who had miraculously caught up to the trio. 

Nate hadn’t killed anyone before, but he wasn’t faced with the same dilemma he held in Cartagena, he didn’t have to think about if _he_ was living or dying. Sully was recovering from when he had jumped, pulling himself onto the roof Nate was standing on, while the world around Nate turned almost grey and dull. 

It was as if he couldn’t hear anything but the muffled back talk Sam was spewing at the man, the shouts from Sully to get out of there, and Nate’s own absent mumbling. 

There wasn’t a second of hesitation as a gunshot rang out, Sully shouting Sam’s name, but the older Drake was unharmed. The man in front of him stood mouth gaped as blood dripped down his forehead, down his nose, his chin, before the man’s legs gave out and he dropped. In the middle of his forehead was a bloody hole, and in Nate’s hands was a smoking gun. A gun that wasn’t shaking like in Cartagena, and he wasn’t shaking either, but once the threat was gone he dropped it and got to the edge, holding his arm out for Sam who gratefully took it. 

They were back at the apartment now, Sam and Sullivan arguing as Sully disinfected where Sam was grazed on his side, and Nate sitting on the couch with his hands folded and his back slouched forward. 

“If you had been paying any attention this wouldn’t have happened.” Sully huffed, bringing the cotton ball over Sam’s wound after having cleaned off the blood, “Your brother was fine, you had no reason to backtrack like that-”

“Like hell he was fine.” Sam scoffed, “No offence, geezer, but I think I know how to fucking take care of my little fucking brother, and I had it all under control-”

“If you had it under control the kid wouldn’t have had to take a shot!” Sully finished.

“He would have had to eventually, anyway-”

“He’s just a kid-”

“Stop!” Nate hated the arguing. He heard it a lot, painfully often, and despised having to pick between Sully and Sam whenever they had these disputes. It wasn’t that Sully forced him to pick, nor Sam, but Sam’s betrayed gaze always burned holes in him whenever Nate said the wrong thing, or anything even close to being against what Sam was saying. It never made him feel better about how much of a liability he was. 

And after those few arguments had been up, and Nate’s eyelids had drooped substantially, the thoughts from when he was younger came back. Why did these two care so much about him anyway? He didn’t think he was special, and he sure as hell didn’t do anything to make him as unique as they saw him - or he didn’t think he did anything to receive this kind of love or affection. There wasn’t enough of him there for the two of them to care so much about, and yet they were both willing to go to the end of the world with him. While a part of him felt undeniably grateful, the feeling was bittersweet. He wasn’t worth getting hurt over, and Sam had almost died earlier because of him. 

“It was my fault.” While Nate had always had an anxiety about his “feelings” or whatever, an anxiety about coming clean and talking about them, it was somehow a lot easier talking about this than anything he had ever spoken about before. “I know you’d do the same thing, Sully-” Sam opened his mouth but Nate spoke quick to cut him off, “It’s my fault, I don’t know why- why you two care so much about me to try and protect me instead of cutting me loose, but it’s so fucking obvious that I’m the reason either of you two get hurt.” 

Nate put a hand on his chest, his other hand shoved into his pants pocket as he walked around the couch towards the only door to get out of the apartment. Out of the stuffy room with the air thick with self pity, away from the only two people who care about him that stared at him now with wide eyes and gaping mouths, both nervous. 

“I’m the problem.” Nate stated, putting a hand on the door knob, “I’m the problem, and I’ll walk away, I’ll fix the problem.” And with that, Nate was gone. The door clicked shut behind him, and Sully and Sam found themselves alone, the apartment already growing dull without Nate’s vibrant light. 

* * *


End file.
